It was a bad time in his life, which is why he accepted.
The company president just announced a series of layoffs, while at the same time ensuring that his own exit and bonus was intact. Xavier Samuelson was one of the unlucky ones in the pink slip lottery that noon. The bad news followed as the company stock immediately tanked, rendering his own stock and stock options worthless, then the business news announced that the board of directors, through some kind of legal legerdemain, raided the corporate contributions to the company IRA to pay off a sexual harassment lawsuit. He and most of the other disgruntled and beyond former employees spent the rest of the afternoon and evening drowning their communal sorrows, after which he stumbled back to the condo he could no longer afford. That was where he found the package waiting for him.
It was a large envelope marked for same day delivery from a local package delivery company, and the timestamp on the ticket showed it was sent just minutes after the company announcement. Opening it, he expected more bad news from the company, but instead, it contained a large presentation folder with the words “The Magical, Mesmerizing Mystery Tour” on the cover. Intrigued, he looked inside.
It described an American twist to an old British cultural phenomena: a “mystery tour” where the destination was known only to the tour guide. The American twist was that the tour was completely a mystery: the participants were to be isolated until they reached their destination, to heighten the mystery and sense of expectation. It sounded like the beginning of a new reality TV series. The predominance of hypnotic images like spirals and staring eyes he dismissed, seeing as they played up the “mesmerizing” part of the tile, just as the images of witches and sorceresses played up the “magical” part. It all brought back memories an early fascination with stage magic, not to mention scenes from some of the fantasy movies popular when he was a high school student and had time to be a rabid movie fan.
What’s more, the topmost page announced that he was the recipient of a free pass for their next mystery tour, if he responded before midnight that night.
Xavier looked at the clock: it was 11:48. In a more than slightly alcoholic fog, he came to a sudden decision and reached for the phone. The pleasant voice that responded indicated that the company was very pleased that he accepted their offer. She then wished him a pleasant evening and told him he would be picked up at 7:30 the next morning.
After he hung up, he suddenly started having second thoughts. He went on line and checked out the website and looked for anything else that he could discover about the company: what he found were a series of glowing reviews and extremely complimentary quotes, even more than what was included with the presentation. Given the seeming popularity of the company, he felt it strange that he never heard of it before.
Precisely at 7:30, a large van pulled up before the entrance to his condo. A startlingly attractive woman in a almost too brief uniform reminiscent of a stewardess stepped out and introduced herself as the tour guide and said “Welcome, Mr. Samuelson: I hope you will have a wonderful and wonderfully mysterious tour.”
The hostess opened the door of the van. Inside were several large lounge seats, all occupied except for the one closest to the door. He looked at his fellow tour members: there were three other men and two women, all about his age. All were dressed in the expensively casual attire of the high paid professionals of the city, all wearing a set of headphones and dark glasses, and all seemingly quite relaxed: none appeared to react as the van dipped momentarily as he stepped inside and seated himself.
The hostess helped him with a seatbelt arrangement more appropriate for a fighter jet or race car, draping a strap over each shoulder and buckling them securely to the belt tight around his waist. Then a pair of gentle fingers settled a large pair of headphones across his ears and slipped a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes. Suddenly, all sight and sound disappeared for him, leaving only the surprisingly arousing scent of the woman’s exotic perfume and the sensual feel of her nylon clad legs against his own. Then even those disappeared when he felt the hostess slide shut the door. Moments later, the van smoothly pulled away and continued on its journey.
As he settled into the uncommonly comfortable seat, he could feel it start to vibrate underneath him, a gentle, rolling motion that soon unknotted his muscles and helped him to begin to relax. It felt so wonderful, especially after a difficult night’s sleep. Soon the vibration began to concentrate on various parts of his body, starting on his legs and advancing upward to his neck, which quickly felt so relaxed that he thought it could barely support his head: he felt so good that he let himself lean back and allow the seat to support him. In fact, he felt so good that he was completely unaware that his arms had rolled off the armrests and were now resting in his lap.
He then became vaguely aware of a soft whirring sound, like gentle waves rustling against a sandy beach, just at the very level of consciousness, slowly cresting and retreating, over and over, over and over. After a few minutes, he found himself inhaling deeply with each crest and exhaling as the sound retreated.
He was feeling too relaxed to know exactly when he noticed the lights blinking slowly in time with his heartbeat. At first, he thought the lights were somehow being caused by light from outside the van, like passing under the crossbeams of the bridge, but they were too regular and went on too long, and soon he didn’t care: the soft pastel lights were so pretty, and they varied in color, keeping his fuzzy attention as he tried to determine the pattern they were making, blinking and changing.
That was why wasn’t consciously aware of the sing song voice whispering in his ears, just loud enough over the whirring sound to be audible yet soft enough to be consciously ignored. The sweet feminine voice sang of sleep and surrender, of soothing relaxation and subtle enchantments. The voice become the thoughts that his empty mind now realized that it craved and needed, and were accepted wholeheartedly, without reservation. Listening to the voice, Xavier slipped deeply into a trance.
In the driving compartment, the driver glanced across at her partner. “Are they all out?”
The woman in the passenger seat glanced at the display unit built into the dashboard and replied definitively “Absolutely. They’re all sleeping like babies.”
“I dunno, I’ve known a lot of babies who could never make it through a night without crying.”
“These ‛babies’ will: as long as their trances are periodically refreshed and reinforced, they’ll stay this way until we reach our destination.
“And, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take a little nap, myself.” At that, the hostess pulled down the visor, stared at the image of her eyes in the mirror, and whispered three short words to herself: “Go to sleep.” The reaction was sudden: her eyes closed immediately and she fell back against her seat. But while even deeply asleep (or deeply entranced) she still whispered those same three words to herself, over and over, until the words slowed and slurred and eventually stopped entirely.
The driver didn’t react: it was a now well ordered routine for the both of them. Her own indoctrination prevented her from taking any advantage of her companion’s entranced state: that privilege was reserved for the person they both answered to.
“Daphne, we’re about a half-hour out.”
The hostess awoke from her nap.
“Time for our guests to experience the final phase of their preliminary education,” the driver continued. The hostess tapped a button on the display, and the passengers began to hear another set of instructions.
Xavier was dreaming. He remembered the fantasies he had of the lovely hostess, remembering her low cut blouse over her abundant breasts, her long, luscious legs, her perfume. In his dreams, he was seeing her, now dressed in a flowing gown bedecked with sparkling jewels and bedazzling charms, making enticing and enchanting motions toward him with her hands, her body, her eyes. He could feel her touch him, stroke him, arouse him, and his hands acted out his dream in real life, guided by the now compelling voice that was also his thoughts for many hours now to slip underneath his belt and massage and touch.
The voice led him to the deliciously painful brink of orgasm time and again, then suddenly over, each time telling him that it was through the sorcery of the enchantress he imagined before him that he realized such pleasure. That such power was real, that such sensual and sexual sorcery was not only real but very powerful, that this lovely enchantress would always have that sorcerous power over him, that all beautiful enchantresses would have that hypnotic power over him. And he accepted what the voice told him.
And if he had been aware of his surroundings, which by now was impossible, he would have noticed that the rest of the passengers were having much the same dreams and much the same reactions.
The van pulled to a stop. The hostess entered the back of the van, removing the headphones and glasses and unbuckling them, then gently awakening her charges with soft words.
As the passengers piled out, each were given two envelopes, one large and one small, and were told to meet back at the van by 5:00, when the Faire closed. The small envelope was an invitation to a private reception with the operators of the Faire after lunch, and the larger one contained some brochures on the Faire and fairgrounds. Their hostess then wished them a happy, mystical and mesmerizing experience.
The group, never having achieved any kind of group cohesion, broke up immediately, each one going off in a different direction, except for Xavier, who felt slightly dazed yet also strangely energized. He stepped through the ornate entrance and started wandering, seeing and marveling at the sights. He had never seen a Renaissance Faire before, never having the time for such things, but he had heard of them. But what he had heard didn’t quite fit with what he was seeing. That curiosity led him to pull out a series of brochures from the envelope. And as he walked around, Xavier read the brochure the hostess gave him, looking for some reassurance of stability in the chaos surrounding him.
According to the brochure, an eccentric millionaire built a faux Stonehenge on his upstate-New York estate back in the 1950’s, before dying and leaving the estate in the hands of his executors. In the subsequent decades, a series of owners added their own touches according to their own eccentricities. The last owner, an outlandish woman with some very eccentric New Age ideas and beyond, set up a trust fund to maintain the place after her death. The trust, not knowing exactly what to do with the estate and its rather eclectic combination of bad Celtic mysticism, incomprehensible Eastern philosophies, poorly researched Native American traditions and pop New Age culture, took as their inspiration a Midwest campground which boasted a variety of psychics, readers and healers. They began to rent space for just about any one who boasted some kind of ‛alternative’ philosophy or medicinal ‛practice,’ drawing people from across the region. They, in turn, brought their followers and the curious, turning the area into a kind of New Age supermarket. In little more than five years, the trust discovered that the estate was paying for itself, with very little advertising except for word of mouth.
One of the ways the trust did advertise was to host a Renaissance Faire flavored New Age extravaganza on the first Saturday of every month during summer. That, thought Xavier, explained the number of men and especially the women in ornate medieval garb wandering the grounds. Xavier couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him, until he realized that the relatively small number of men all seemed to be in rather plain costumes while the women, all of which were quite lovely, were dressed in tight fitting, low cut, revealing gowns that would have been scandalous in any medieval era.
His wandering eventually led him to follow the crowds migrating toward the far end of the fairgrounds, to what appeared to be the entrance to an open-air theater. Inside, a stunning woman with golden blonde hair was addressing the crowd, having little trouble getting people to migrate to the front seats. She was obviously popular, judging from the familiarity of the crowd’s reactions. Just what she was supposed to be doing, he couldn’t tell, until she started talking about hypnotism. From her speech and the humorous reaction of the crowd, it was obvious to him that she was some kind of stage hypnotist. Lacking anything else to do, he settled in a seat to the rear and continued to listen.
Her speech soon turned into a gentle river of words that seemed to flow around and through his mind, and he was surprised to find his arms starting to float up from his lap at her direction. He tried to force them down without success, seeing at the same time how her hypnotic voice was similarly affecting most of audience. Then she invited anyone who responded to her test and who wanted to be hypnotized to come up and join her on stage, and several people rushed to the stage. Xavier felt an uneasy thrill as his mind warred within itself, debating joining the other volunteers, when someone rushing beside him stepped on his foot. The sharp pain dispelled the hypnotic spell her voice had cast over him, and he quickly left before he fell under its spell again.
The reception was in the main house of the estate, something built in the late 19th Century, but it was well-maintained. The efficient staff directed him to the second floor.
He was the last member of the tour to arrive. The others were milling about, glancing out the the French doors across the elevated patio toward the main Faire grounds and commenting on the various sights. It was obvious the others had managed to introduce themselves, and he did the same: in so doing he discovered that the others were quite successful in their companies, companies he recognized. For their part, once they learned his situation, they all performed the time-honored Wall Street rituals of trading business cards and commiserations.
Several minutes later, five women entered. Five exceptionally lovely women, one leading and the rest trailing quickly behind. The lead woman was a dark brunette wearing a wine-red gown; the women behind her were a vivid redhead in green robes, a lighter brunette in golden velvet, an ethereal ash-blond woman in pale lavender robes and a golden blonde wearing a sapphire blue gown. The last woman, he remembered, was the stage hypnotist he saw earlier that morning.
The brunette cleared her throat and everyone else went silent. “Welcome, all of you, to the Magical, Mesmerizing Mystery Tour,” she said. Her voice sent thrills down Xavier’s spine.
“I am glad to see you are all here. Have you been enjoying yourselves?”
The tour group, Xavier included, all answered in the affirmative, a few enthusiastically so.
“Excellent. I am Carina and I am on the board of directors for the Faire. I want to thank you all for coming and hope you have a truly mystical and mesmerizing time.”
The reception quickly then broke up into the kind of social affair Xavier was so inept at. He took a glass of something he hoped was alcoholic from the sideboard and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but it was not to be. He looked up from his glass to see the blonde woman approach. “Were you at my show this morning?” she asked politely.
“I was,” he replied.
“I thought so,” she said confidently. “And you were going to come up on stage with me, then you left. What happened?” Her voice, this close, with its mild French accent, was even more hypnotic.
Xavier found himself answering, her compelling voice caressing away any apprehensions he had, compelling him to answer. “Someone stepped on my foot and I went to see if it was all right.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that: is it all right?”
“That’s good. My name is Sofia. And yours is?”
“Xavier.” He was glad she changed the subject: he was afraid that she might ask him how he felt about going on stage and he was afraid that he would admit that he felt simultaneously frightened and aroused. It wasn’t something he wanted to share, especially with the person who created such feelings within him.
“What an interesting name, Xavier.”
Just then, the sound of a chime rang through the room. Xavier and Sofia turned to see Carina standing in the center of the room, holding a silver bell. “Good,” said Sofia softly. “The entertainment is about to begin.”
Carina’s eyes glanced from one tour group member to another, finally resting on one of the women, singling her out. “Amanda, isn’t it?” she said.
Amanda, curious, responded “yes?”
Carina gestured hypnotically in her direction. “Sleep … sleep … sleep,” she said, gesturing with each word.
Amanda made the mistake of looking at Carina: upon seeing the enchantress cast her hypnotic spell, she suddenly froze in place and her eyes went wide, staring back at her enchantress. “I … I … o-o-o-bey,” she managed to mutter as she started to sway slightly in time with the enchantress’ gestures.
Xavier glanced over at the rest of the group: the other woman was also beginning to sway slightly, her eyes fixed on Carina, and at least two of the three other men were showing similar signs of enchantment. He himself wanted to move, but the enchantress’ charisma seemed to flow over the rest of them from her lone victim, halting them in their tracks.
Carina reversed her hand, her hypnotic gesture becoming an irresistible invitation. “Come to me, Amanda.” Her victim obeyed slowly, one halting step at a time, until she was standing directly before the seductive woman. The enchantress stroked her victim’s face with the back of her fingers, saying “Yesssss, you obey me: you are under my spell, my hypnotic spell.
“And you enjoy it.”
Amanda obviously did, as a dreamy smile flowed across her lips.
“Come with me,” commanded the enchantress, as she took her victim’s hand in hers. The woman sighed as her eyes closed and the enchantress started whispering into her ear as she started to lead her victim away.
Apparently that was the sign for the other enchantresses to approach. Sofia, Xavier discovered, had left him and was approaching the other woman, gesturing and speaking softly of hypnotic spells, and the other men were similarly being stalked. The rest of the group seemed frozen, but Xavier’s legs started moving before he could even think. The French doors behind him were the only exit, the other entrance blocked by the enchantresses and their victims. He turned, refusing to meet their hypnotic gaze, staring at the floor, ignoring their mesmerizing voices, muttering to himself. Soon he would be back at the van, or someplace he could try to call or escape.
He almost made it when another figure appeared before him. “Oh, we have a strong-willed one here, don’t we?” said a vibrant feminine voice in a cultured British accent. The sudden sound of the voice caused him to stop and look up. Before him was another of the enchantresses, a raven-haired beauty with deep, dark eyes. And once he saw those eyes, all resistance seemed to drain away from him. Xavier tried to resist but immediately recognized that it was far too late for that.
“Yes, look into my eyes, my enchanting, entrancing eyes, my mesmerizing, hypnotizing eyes,” she said, holding his gaze with her hypnotically intense stare. She stepped up to him, slowly, boldly, turning her approach into a grand performance. As she approached, her hands made sinuous gestures before his eyes: with each motion, he felt his mind cloud and his thoughts drift away into the darkness of her eyes. He was vaguely aware that he was starting to move and sway in response to her mesmerizing motions.
“Look into my eyes so deep, surrender now to hypnotic sleep.” The simple rhyme in Xavier’s ears became a magical spell, irresistible to his clouded mind.
“Now, you are mine,” she said triumphantly. She dramatically pointed toward his eyes with two fingers, then slowly lowered them. His eyelids followed automatically. “Now, sleep.” When his eyes closed, his mind went blank.
He couldn’t move: a delicious lassitude lay on his heavy limbs. He could feel the still closeness of the muggy air across his naked body but felt no urge to move or cover himself. The soft bedding he was lying on was so comfortable he felt no urge to move at all.
The only urge he felt was curiosity, and so he opened his eyes. Above him was the ceiling of a pavilion: dangling from the center directly above him was a crystal wind chime that swayed in minute arcs. The almost stillness of the chimes somehow seemed soothing to his eyes.
“So, you’re awake,” said a strangely familiar female voice, although now with a faint Midwestern accent instead of the upper class British one.
He looked over toward the sound of the voice. Sitting on a camp chair against one wall of the pavilion was the raven haired and raven eyed enchantress who bespelled him earlier, now dressed in a thin, light robe that did nothing to hide her full breasts and slender body.
“Don’t bother getting up: your arms and legs are too heavy to move, your whole body is so heavy, so incredibly heavy.”
Her sing song voice flowed through his mind and across his limbs: while he had thought them heavy before, Xavier now found them immensely heavy, completely immobile. He settled back onto the cushions.
“My name is Morgaine: you will address me as Mistress Morgaine. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress Morgaine.” The words came out of his mouth before he could even think, yet seemed totally correct and, for some unknown reason, totally acceptable.
“You’re probably wondering what’s happened to you and what’s going to happen. All worthy questions, and I’m going to answer them.
“As for what has happened to you, you have been and are deeply hypnotized, even if you don’t feel like it. During your ride, you were placed into a deep hypnotic state and given a series of very complex post-hypnotic suggestions, conceived and produced by the finest minds in the business, suggestions that you will obey implicitly. Those suggestions cause you to accept any woman who fits the image of an enchantress as being irresistibly hypnotic and respond to her hypnotic suggestions as irresistible magical enchantments. These suggestions affect men on so many levels that they are quite irresistible.
“As for what is going to happen to you, well, that depends on you. If you continue to respond so well to hypnosis, you may be made the personal attendant of one of the enchantresses here, but I don’t think that’s your destiny. You see, you’re just the kind of person we’re looking for. We watch for people like you, people who have been tossed aside by Wall Street, with no means of supporting yourselves and no prospects for the future, and who have the skills and knowledge to be useful for our purposes.
“People like you,” she said, elegantly pointing toward him with one ringed finger.
“We call ourselves the Society of Sirens. Our mission is not only break the glass ceiling on Wall Street, but take control of it through a policy of covert feminine hypnotic domination. It was the dream of Mrs. Waverly, the last owner of the mansion, and she organized the first Sisters and set our goals. The trust fund and the Renn Faire is just a cover: the men on the trust committee think they run the show, but we guide their hands.
“And to complete our mission, we need capable, trustworthy staff. Again, people like you. People who know Wall Street, know the players and shakers, or understand the arcane financial systems that drive it. We need that knowledge, and we recruit people with that knowledge to serve us.
“But its not all about serving us, you will get something very definite from it, as well. Wouldn’t you love the opportunity to get back at your former employer, especially the upper management who took everything the company was worth and left you, the people who actually made the money, with nothing? We can give you that opportunity. We can give you a purpose, a way of life, an income and even a place to live that’s much more elegant than that one-bedroom condo you’ve been paying so much for. We can give you a community to be a part of, one that will never cast you aside, one that will welcome you and nurture you and pleasure you.”
“Of course,” he responded, “you’re hitting me where and when I’m most vulnerable. Mistress Morgaine.”
“You catch on quick. That’s one of the reasons we selected you. You didn’t think we selected you at random from all the men and women that were terminated at your company, did you?”
“If you had been watching, you’d realize that Ben Cooper was the real catch of the business unit.”
She laughed. “We already control Mr. Cooper. And have been providing him with much of the information he’s been using to implement his spectacular rise to fame within your company. We predict that he’ll be upper management within three years, and through him, we’ll control much of the company.”
“I didn’t think he was that smart.”
“He isn’t, but he obediently listens to his ‛spiritual advisor’ that he calls on weekends and evenings and does everything she tells him to.”
“And you want me to be like him, Mistress Morgaine.”
“Actually, we want you to direct people like him. We have plenty of entranced agents, men and women, carrying out our directions, but we need people to formulate those directions: we need capable staff to analyze the information our entranced agents provide and advise the directors of the Society. And you would fit in very nicely.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Oh, you will, you will. In fact, you will join the Sisters as a willing participant. All I have to do is hypnotize you into it.”
“You seem pretty sure of all of this.”
“Our methods were perfected over several years and are quite irresistible. You should understand that by now. But, if you don’t believe me, I can arrange a little demonstration.” She stood over him, reaching out to start the crystals spinning and turning. “Why don’t you watch the pretty crystals up here?”
A beam of light illuminated them, sparkling like the stars in the darkness, fascinating him. There was no thought even to try to look away or resist.
She knelt beside him, the crystals continuing to turn and spin on their own, and started whispering into his ear. “For now, all I’m going to do is make sure you don’t tell anyone else about this.” She passed her hand before his eyes. “You cannot tell anyone about what happened here in any way or form,” she said, the gesture and the commanding tone rendering her words into a hypnotic spell.
“I cannot tell anyone what happened here, Mistress Morgaine” Xavier said softly.
“You see? You’re responding so well to your hypnotic enchantress, I know you’ll be an excellent addition to the Society.”
Morgaine waited for a response, a small smile caressing her lips. After a few moments of silence, she reached over and snapped her fingers before his eyes. “Awaken,” she commanded.
Xavier blinked, his eyes returning to gaze into hers.
“As I said, you’re responding so well to your hypnotic enchantress that I know you’ll be an excellent addition to the Society.”
“Now, when you return to your normal life this evening, you will begin making your preparations. You can tell people you got a job offer and are investigating it. Then, in a week or so, you will be contacted by one of our representatives: they will give you all the information you need for your new position and help you move out of that tiny condo to a suite in a building we own in Manhattan. You’ll start work immediately thereafter.
“Once you report to me for your company orientation, that is. And you will love your orientation session.
“The job does involve several perks: not just the usual, but some definitely unusual. For instance, not all of the women here are part of the Sisterhood, many serve us in many ways. When you’ve proven yourself, you might even have one of them assigned to serve you, serve you in any way you desire.
“And, since you now and forever believe we enchantresses are not only irresistibly hypnotic but also irresistibly sexy, I may have you serve me: you served me quite enthusiastically before I awoke you from your trance.”
“Very enthusiastically, and very satisfyingly,” she said in a sultry voice. “The concepts of hypnosis and hypnotic enchantresses are now irresistibly and irrevocably intertwined with sex and sexual domination in your mind. Being hypnotized by an enchantress is now extremely erotic for you. And since your expression tells me that you don’t yet totally believe me, watch this!”
She gestured hypnotically toward his eyes with her long, bejeweled fingers, and Xavier, although not entranced, felt himself immediately captivated and immediately aroused.
“Such a simple hypnotic gesture,” she said indulgently, “and yet you’re already aroused. And if I keep doing this,” she continued, as she continued to gesture, “you will get more and more aroused, until you can’t stand the pressure and excitement and beg me for release.”
But he couldn’t stand even the beginning of the exquisite torture she was promising that was building within him. “Please stop, Mistress Morgaine,” he muttered. “Stop.”
“Stop gesturing,” she said, pleased, “or let you come?”
“Both, either, please, Mistress Morgaine, please!”
“Oh, I just started,” she teased.
Enthralled by her continued gestures, he couldn’t see her but he could feel her straddle him. “I can’t let this opportunity go to waste,” she told him. “And it will further strengthen the concept of hypnotic enchantresses and sexual submission into your mind.”
He could feel her slipping around his fully erect and incredibly sensitive member. She, too, felt incredibly wet and aroused, as if hypnosis was the most incredible foreplay she could conceive.
“Now look into my eyes!”
Xavier looked and that moment began mindlessly thrusting and pumping away. Each motion of either increased the pleasure they both felt, the sensual energy flowing from her eyes into his and back again, amplifying the pleasure immeasurably.
Until he came with a sudden burst of energy that brought a ecstatic cry of pleasure from her lips. “That was even better than the last time,” she finally managed to say. “It seems you’re a much better partner when you’re at least a little conscious of what you’re doing. I’ll make a note of that.”
She looked Xavier over once more. “But its almost time for you to return, so its time to begin your final preparations.” She gestured before his eyes once again. “Repeat after me: you want to join the Society of Sirens.”
“I want to join the Society of Sirens, Mistress Morgaine,” replied Xavier in a dreamy, pleased voice.
“You want to obey your superiors of the Society.”
“I want to obey my superiors of the Society.”
“You believe in the correctness of the Society.”
“I believe in the correctness of the Society.”
“You believe in the concept of female domination and female hypnotic domination.”
“I believe … I believe in female domination … female hypnotic domination.”
“Excellent,” she said, placing her finger to his lips. “Now just keep repeating those words to yourself while I go change.” Mistress Morgaine went behind a screen, emerging several minutes later in the same enchantress’ robes as before. She looked down at Xavier, seeing his mouth move as he repeated her suggestions to himself, and nodded in satisfaction.
“Now sleep, my darling enchanted man,” she said, passing her hand across his eyes, which blinked shut. “Time for you to go home, where you will have wet dreams of me tonight, I think.”
Later that afternoon, Sister Morgaine, dressed now in a simple but very expensive business attire, entered the office on the top floor of the manor house, carrying a pile of folders.
“What do you have on the latest group of candidates, Sister Morgaine?” said Sister Carina.
Sister Morgaine placed the folders on the desk before her superior. “One of the two women, the one you selected, responded so well to the Sisterhood concept she is being considered to be a candidate for Sisterhood, while the other woman was implanted with the standard female superiority concepts and will be assigned to the covert Intelligence section. Out of the five men, one of them proved totally unsatisfactory for our purposes and has been given the standard amnesia and implanted memory suggestions, while three of them responded satisfactorily to their hypnotic programming and will be assigned to the covert Intelligence section.”
“And what of the last man, Sister Morgaine.”
“That man, Xavier Samuelson, has performed beyond all expectations. His response to deep trance is quite exceptional, his acceptance of Sisterhood precepts was total, and his business acumen and insight is quite extraordinary. I’m selecting him for the Corporate Analysis section.”
“That is your prerogative, Sister Morgaine,” replied Sister Carina with a smirk. “And I’m sure his other performance had nothing to do with your selection?”
Sister Morgaine replied with a smirk of her own. “As I state in my report, he is very capable.”
Xavier, feeling strangely listless yet at the same time energetic, met the group back at the van at the appointed time. The hostess asked them “Did you all have a good time?” Xavier, feeling a smile that he could not explain, simply nodded shyly in agreement. The rest of group all nodded and said they had a wonderful time. One or two even expressed an interest in returning, to which the hostess said with a smile she would make sure they got all the information they needed.
They boarded the van, buckling themselves in as the van drove away. Before the casual gossip began to start, though, a soft chime started ringing in the van. With each chime, each member of the group felt their eyes get heavy and their body get tired and their mind get cloudy. By the fifth chime their eyes were closed and they were breathing slowly and deeply. Then a voice was heard, soothing and gentle at first, then growing more and more commanding. It spoke soothingly of surrendering to soothing, restful slumber. It spoke persuasively of how much they enjoyed their trip and how much they would want to tell others about it. It spoke convincingly of enchantresses and how the listeners would love to return to surrender again to their hypnotic enchantments. The voice repeated several times throughout their return trip, the repetitions driving the instructions deep into the unconscious minds of the listeners.
In the driver’s compartment, the hostess watched them all surrender to deep hypnotic sleep on the monitor screen. Another successful catch, she was told, and she looked forward to her reward that evening for her faithful service. Mistress Morgaine was known among the lower levels of the Society to exceptionally reward those who served the Society faithfully.
She glanced at the folder on her lap. That one, the man in Seat 5, she was told to to remember, because she was to retrieve him the following week. He looked quite attractive, even more so deeply entranced. Maybe Mistress Morgaine would have him reward her. Or maybe have her reward him: it didn’t matter to a devoted servant of the Sisterhood, the greatest pleasure was found in obeying the hypnotic commands of her superiors.
As the man in Seat 5 would soon discover.